


as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave

by boleynqueens



Series: tumblr prompts [2]
Category: The Tudors (TV), Tudor History - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6392920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boleynqueens/pseuds/boleynqueens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Then I will tell you that truly, I find you as changeable as a tempest, a storm…how am I to know that this is not merely the eye of it?" Anne asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 26: Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave: asked by margarettudor on Tumblr

Here they are at Hever, again, in the entryway. It's the second time he's been here, the second time he's pulled her up to him before she can complete the customary curtsey, but she pulls away from the embrace this time, clutches the windowsill behind her, and ducks her head.

She had been out riding when he came, her father had told her to fix her hair, put a hood on before she met His Majesty in their foyer, but Anne hadn’t bothered. Let him see her with her hair a tangled mess, her face flushed and sweaty with exertion, she doesn't care. It doesn't matter.

Her riding jacket is still on.

Her gaze, cool and black, settles somewhere above his shoulder as he speaks.

"I could not bear the thought of you hating me."

"I admire and respect you, as all subjects do to their King. I do not, nor ever could, hate you. Are you eased, Your Majesty?" she asks, evenly, tonelessly, in what is, she knows, an obviously rehearsed answer.

"I am never at ease around you," he admits, blue eyes soft, shining, "Anne, I never I am, though it is a task I have set my mind to; it seems it is one not even Hercules could accomplish. Nor a task God will grant me the strength to accomplish, it seems."

"Then I apologize for causing Your Majesty distress. Perhaps I should stay Hever, and not return to court, so as not to cause any--"

"No, please come back, I…please."

"Kings don't say 'please," she says, coolly, looking at the stone floor, "I recall you telling me so."

"Well," he says, laughing, tugging on an auburn curl that peeks from around his ear, "at least you have stopped giving me courtier's answers."

"You wish me to speak not as a courtier? Freely?"

"Yes, very much so," he says, earnestly, he tucks a dark, loose tendril that falls over her cheek behind her ear and she clears her throat, impetuously.

"Then I will tell you that truly, I find you as changeable as a tempest, a storm…how am I to know that this is not merely the eye of it?" Anne asks.

"It is…not. I am gone for you, truly, I cannot bear the thought of…I do not know the day, or the hour upon which it changed…"

She waits, patiently, as he rambles, still as a statue herself. No emotion flickers in her black eyes, her expression remains blank.

"I promise," Henry says, feeling as if he is losing her by the second, "my Lady, I promise I adore you. More than words can say."

" _Adore_?"

At _this_ her chin tilts upwards, eyes lift to meet his, the man and king of six feet tall to her diminutive stature.

"What is adoration? Am I a pet, a child?"

"Anne--"

"I am a woman, a lady, in truth, I do not…I do not desire or need adoration, but love, as women do. And I believe that the love Your Majesty bears, is reserved, mainly, for your own self. You have none left for others. You _admire_ your courtiers. You _adore_ your daughter. We are _all of us_ baffled for how it is you feel towards Her Majesty, but I imagine it cannot be well, since _you_ are _here_ and _she_ is _there_!"

And with that, she falls into a curtsey, again, deep, and he holds her wrist, again, but this time kneels down with her, so that their faces are on the same level, rather than pulling her up to stand, and then holds her hand instead. Uses the other one to cup her face, gently.

"That should make me furious, truly, I should tell you to never speak to me in such a way again," he whispers, voice hoarse, "but somehow it does not, and I do…"

" _Majesty_ \--"

"I do, I do love you. God help me, I do."

"I must go," Anne says, swallowing the lump in her throat, "truly, I am in disarray from my exercise--"

"Please, please don't go," he begs, clutching at the sleeve of her jacket, eyes, large and blue as any summer morning sky she's ever seen, brimming with tears, "please. I may have said Kings don't say such things but this one does, for you. Please."

"Do you demand it of me? As King? To stay?"

"No, " he says, shaking his head, "I beseech you to. As a man. I love you. Please stay here with me."

"Then, to a man, I say no," Anne replies, gathering her heavy skirts in her hand, withdrawing her other hand from his, she strides away from him, down the hall, to her private chambers, and slams the door behind her.

If she had looked back she would have seen him, still kneeling on the floor.


End file.
